


take your pains unto my own

by gabriphales



Series: ravage is too kind a word [1]
Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Emotional Manipulation, Heavy Angst, Hurt No Comfort, M/M, Rough Sex, Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-29
Updated: 2020-09-29
Packaged: 2021-03-07 16:41:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,404
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26720818
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gabriphales/pseuds/gabriphales
Summary: the night before their executions, gabriel comes to make a deal with whom he presumes to be crowley. aziraphale can't possibly bear the thought of leaving crowley to handle gabriel's lust, should he return later, so he takes it upon himself to endure it for him. it can't be that bad, after all - right?
Relationships: Aziraphale/Gabriel (Good Omens), Crowley/Gabriel (Good Omens)
Series: ravage is too kind a word [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1971097
Comments: 3
Kudos: 40





	take your pains unto my own

"why are you here?" 

aziraphale tries to sound confident. aziraphale tries to stand tall, hold his arms at his sides, and actually _meet_ gabriel's eye when pungent violet stares into his own. wearing crowley's body, the glasses make a great deal more sense than they had before. they shelter him, guard the way his eyes widen and peer anywhere but forwards as gabriel steps closer. he doesn't feel quite so seen, so irrevocably _known_ like this. it's nice.

what isn't nice, however, is the way gabriel approaches him like vultures to carrion. his broad, warm hands seeking out a jawline frailer than the one aziraphale is so used to having. his thumb tucks under crowley's chin, tilts him up till their eyes start to meet, and violet, violet - violet has never been so _violent_ before. it makes aziraphale quiver, unsteady where he stands. he tries to back away, but gabriel follows after him, refusing to let go.

"i've yearned for you longer than you've been on earth, longer than you've been one of the fallen. i tried to keep my distance, resist temptation, but now i see - " 

gabriel presses him against one of the hard, sterile walls. crisp and clean, they remind him so terribly of heaven. his arms start to shake, too weak to budge gabriel's stable frame. pushing him away is of no use. he can't fight back. he can't even try.

"now i see," gabriel repeats, "that you're in need of some heavenly guidance. so i've got a deal for you, give yourself up to me, just this once, and i'll convince hell to spare your life."

"what?" aziraphale gasps, squirming fruitlessly as gabriel pins him in place, trapped between cold plaster and a hot, _unbearably_ hot chest. "why do you - why _me?_ "

gabriel's thumb finally trails up to his mouth, planting at the center of a trembling, plush lower lip. aziraphale's stomach drops like an empty pit, sickly and struck taut, churning nausea all the way up to his throat. the thumb pushes in, _playing_ with an interior that doesn't belong to either of them. aziraphale feels vile, he can't accept this, he can't give crowley's body over without a fight. but then he sees it - that eager look in gabriel's eye. and he knows, he _knows,_ even if he denies him this once, he'll only come back for more.

crowley doesn't deserve that.

his heart beats faster, tightening on a silver-cool knot. there's ice running through his limbs, melting him from the inside out. sweat gathers at the nape of his neck, his palms turn clammy. there's no point in avoiding this, he'd only be brushing off a fate crueler for crowley to endure. and hasn't crowley already _endured_ enough for him? the insults, the rejections, the fussy, obnoxious, _intolerable_ attitude. aziraphale has to wonder how he's withstood their joint company for so long. if he were crowley, he doesn't think he could stand himself. and in this moment, in a way, he _is_ crowley. so he can do one thing for him, make up for lifetimes of teasing with no follow through, always getting too close, but never as close as crowley wants him. he deserves this -

before he can stop himself from thinking it, he's already made his decision: he _deserves_ this. he owes it to crowley, it's a sort of atonement, a glorification of pain, the sort of sancticity that only true suffering gives way to. a baptism will always feel like drowning to any baby, and mastication can be religious when it's done right.

he closes his eyes, and lets his legs part.

"do it kindly, please." he says, clamping his lids in order to trap the tears that are already springing. gabriel's hands are too big around his hips, too strong - they feel like they might just tear him in half, split him down the middle with a single tug. this body is so frail, so fragile, and aziraphale can't _imagine_ letting crowley handle this on his own. how vulnerable, to be skin and bones, his collarbones peering past thin, pale flesh when gabriel pulls at his shirt, starts stripping him down. 

"i'm truly noble, having denied myself of you for so long." he says, dragging his gaze down crowley's naked body in a way that nearly tempts aziraphale to the capital vice of _wrath_ \- he'd quite like to sock gabriel right in the eye for that. for _daring_ to treat crowley like something that belongs to him. instead, he lays still, and reminds himself of who he's doing this for. crowley would take it for him, crowley wouldn't even _complain._ he'd only ever assure aziraphale - _'no, angel, wasn't really that bad, don't fret yourself over it.'_ dear god, his chest aches with the thought of crowley, _his_ crowley having to suffer this. he can't allow that to happen, he most decidedly _won't._

"on the floor," gabriel demands, and aziraphale winces - apparently too noticeably. "or, maybe - _yes,_ that's perfect."

and he pulls him somewhere, aziraphale's vision is too blurry to know, a fist around his forearm bringing him forwards until he's thrown - he's _jolted._

it's crowley's throne. he's sitting in crowley's throne now, though a better term for it might be _bound to,_ considering how gabriel's miracled restraints are cutting into his skin. silk ribbon pulled so tight it's razor sharp, rubbing him raw when he tries to wrestle into a more comfortable position. there is no comfort in this, he's soon to realize. better to stay still, and let it happen. it can't be _that_ awful, after all. gabriel's an _angel._

the ribbons draw tighter, and crowley's legs are snapped wide open, the vacant space gabriel _obviously_ had been hoping more from causing a clear displeasure that ripples through his tense expresion. he smacks the blank skin, featureless as it is, it's still sensitive - and _painful._ aziraphale yelps, louder than intended, and that only earns him another stinging hit. gabriel's smile curves into something more of a smirk, and he looks malicious, sadistically enamored. perhaps, just this once, aziraphale's bitten off more than he can chew.

and crowley isn't coming to save him this time.

"i think, considering how long i've waited, i deserve to have whatever i want from you, yes?" gabriel asks, sneering more than he speaks. there's a glint in his eyes that can't be placed, but it commands aziraphale into nodding, ( _crowley would never be this submissive, this spineless,_ he chides himself.) "good, then you'll make yourself a nice, tight little cunt for me to fuck _right_ here."

he flicks a line up crowley's center, tracing over where his slit might have been, where his slit's _about_ to be. aziraphale bites down his guilt over manuevering crowley's body like this, that dirty word is still hovering in his mind, crass and corrupting every little bit of purity he might have assigned to this - twisting what surely must be a noble deed into absolute filth. _violated,_ he feels violated, but more importantly, he's so terrified of violating crowley. somehow using him as he uses his form. but he can't, he _can't._ all he's ever wanted was to be good for crowley, and he's never come anywhere close to fulfilling that. this is all he can do for him, spread his legs, and take it like it's the only thing he's good for. _and maybe it is,_ he thinks woefully. _maybe he's meant for this, he's always been so lacking in everything else._

he shapes a fine genital configuration, because he can't bear to call it anything else. gabriel looks pleased, though, quite truthfully, aziraphale isn't sure if he's more frightening pleased or unpleased. he falls to his knees, and spits - how foul! - before indulging himself. his tongue is thick, full, it feels like the holy rapture come to scald crowley's flesh when it parts his trembling labia. wetness buds like morning dew, and aziraphale's eyes follow suit - _is he getting off on this? does he like it? he can't like it, he can't, that would be just like doing this to crowley himself._

"please," aziraphale shudders, drowning a crisp, clear _no_ in the spit that his nauseous mouth supplies plenty of. gabriel seems to hear him as aziraphale wants to be heard, pleading for more, and he presses a finger inside - _wrathful, wretched, hot like metal left in flame, like scourging, molten iron._ aziraphale shouts from it, clamping over his mouth, and tries his very best not to writhe away. he has to do this for crowley, has to take it, has to be good at _something,_ sex isn't even _hard._

"make it tighter," gabriel orders. "like a virgin's. everyone likes tearing their presents open, yeah?"

aziraphale takes another deep breath, and squeezes down around gabriel, forcing crowley's body to follow suit. one minor miracle after another, gabriel finally seems content with what he's offered. thrusting his finger in and out, and delighting in how little room there is to move, how _cramped_ it all is. aziraphale lets a whimper die on his lips. it'll be over soon enough, he tells himself. and wouldn't he rather bear it for crowley, than know he let crowley bear _yet another_ agony for him?

"hold on," gabriel pulls his fingers back, making aziraphale shudder in relief. "i've got a good idea, let me - "

his bonds come loose, but only for a golden moment. gabriel's shoving his legs back next, fastening them to the back of the throne, and it's too far, he can hardly take the stretch - how can crowley's body even move like this? there's no hiding now, not with everything on display, gussied up and out like a doll meant for window shopping. gabriel slips his fingers up through crowley's cheeks, rubbing against the furled, warm entrance there.

"so soft," he gleams appreciatively. "anyone ever touched you here before?"

and aziraphale doesn't know the answer, doesn't dare want to make assumptions about crowley's sex life, but he knows what gabriel's hoping for - "n-no. only you."

gabriel looks vicious, a beast with an appetite that outmatches his jaws. "knew it, you're so shy - were you saving this for me? aching for me, just like i ached for you?"

aziraphale coils with bile, holding it down his throat. "of course, how could i not? i've been - been _yearning,_ quite terribly."

he doesn't play crowley well. admittedly, the situation doesn't call for good acting, only good tolerance. gabriel rises from his knees, the threatening click of his loafers a precedential warning, the calling card of what's to come. aziraphale tries to close his eyes again, shut out what he's invited in, but gabriel grips him by his jaw, gabriel shakes his head like he might just slap him if he doesn't get what he wants, and mutters, "open those for me, still just as pretty as they were before."

_before you fell._

aziraphale feels sick.

"now," gabriel's hands find the bony hills of his knees, planting there with a grasp that denies escape. "this'll all go perfectly fine, so long as you sit still, and let me do what i need to do."

aziraphale nods like he's even capable of listening, but really, with gabriel's hands on him, gabriel's hands on _crowley,_ ordering around who he _thinks_ crowley is, there's a soreness growing in his chest, a lump in his throat that feels more like a cancerous tumour.

when gabriel unzips his trousers, something awful twists in aziraphale’s gut. his senses white out, strung out and hyperaware of everything that isn't gabriel, everything that might take him away from this. the room smells painfully of bleach, the lights are too bright, so sharp they start to tear edges in his vision, and he aches all over. he can only pray the pain won't last long enough for crowley to feel it, once he gets his body back. his body - _his_ body, the body aziraphale’s gone and given up to someone else.

“i’m so sorry,” he whispers, slight and sulking under his breath. “please forgive me, please forgive me.”

gabriel presses a hand to his hip, and kisses the creases of his forehead, speaking slowly, “just relax, once i’m one with you, you’ll have to be forgiven.”

his cockhead spears at the first strain of muscle, and aziraphale holds his breath, tries not to squeal. gabriel had once told him only pigs squeal when they're frightened, only the weak let their pain be known. his eyes close once more, he can't stop himself this time. and gabriel pushes inside, one inch, two inches, until - 

their hips are suddenly flush together, resounding with a filthy smack, and aziraphale _burns._ he’s burning, from the small, shuddering passage that seems to contract with every intention of forcing gabriel out, to his pulsing lips, and all across his thighs, spreading like ripples through water, curving from his center. he sobs, there's no hiding it, no shrouding away this time. gabriel cups him by his cheek - by crowley’s cheek - but he shakes his head fiercely, sniveling without sense.

“please, please - “ he hiccups, wet and rough,  
the sound shaking his chest. “it hurts, i-it hurts, i can't take it.”

gabriel tightens his grasp, thumb digging into the soft underside of his chin. “it always hurts the first time, love. keep calm, just bear it for a little longer.”

aziraphale shoves at his chest, weak palms doing little more than to stir gabriel’s temper. he’s closed in upon once again, gabriel caging him where he sits, trapped like a vicious animal, like wounded prey. he keeps up his pleading for some time, _’no more, no more, no more,’_ but gabriel pays him no mind. laying kisses upon his swollen lids when tears spill over, flooding his makeshift dam. aziraphale works crowley’s voice to the very limit, eventually hearing it give out, feeble and thin, stripped to the bone. that only makes him cry harder - it barely makes a sound.

gabriel finishes without ceremony, the proof of his sin painted down crowley’s thighs, leaking from the wet wound his cunt has become. his hand comes up to pat crowley’s shoulder (aziraphale can't help flinching), and it's so familiar, so strangely buddylike - 

“you put on a good show for me, sunshine.” he grins, full of teeth, and a cold wink. with a snap of his fingers, he's gone. 

aziraphale is left tied to the throne, serenaded by a symphony of his own dry sniffles.

**Author's Note:**

> tumblr is @enricks


End file.
